Never said no
by mickeysam
Summary: She still can't stand the smell of rum, it makes all the memories she wants to forget come back.


Someone at the bar is drinking rum and it makes Robin feel sick. She can stand it when the smell of good rum is mixed in and disguised by the fruit of some girly drink or when someone decides to mix it with coke, but this isn't the good kind of rum and it's not disguised at all. It's sharp like acetone and the sickly sweet smell of artificial fruit flavourings mixes with it. It makes her nauseous to be near it, but she waits at the bar anyway, hands gripping the edge of it tightly as she waits for her own drink.

The smell brings back memories, too many bad ones that shouldn't be there. _Of darkness and shadows and shallow breaths scented with rotgut rum and oh god, please stop!_

Robin chokes back memories with deep breaths, trying to keep from showing any signs of distress.

"Can you hurry up, Carl?" Robin calls desperately.

Carl makes a waving motion at her, indicating he's working towards that but there are others in front of her.

The smell is getting stronger and it's getting hard to breath correctly. It's some sort of tropical flavour that's way too familiar and she sways in place, hands clenched so tight they're white.

_Dark and hot and sickly sweet rum on moist breath as he slips under the blankets and into her bed and..._

Robin swallows hard and debates leaving and not getting her drink, it's almost not worth it any more. She's desperate for air.

"Hey, Robin!"

An arm wraps around her middle, companionable and friendly, warm against the cold she's feeling but it doesn't feel that way for long.

Suddenly she's back and _oh god there are hands in the dark sliding under the covers and touching her everywhere and she can feel his breath on her neck but she can't move and she can't speak and –_

"Don't touch me!" Robin screams, driving her elbow backwards and into the person who's arms are actually around her. She whirls away so fast that her hair whips against her face and, breathing heavily, the blur of memory starts to fade and it's Marshall standing there holding his stomach with a greatly confused look on his face, their friends sitting in the booth look just as puzzled.

"Robin-?"

She backs away, fear and shame welling up inside.

_She couldn't say no, she never said no._

She doesn't stop to grab her coat or even her purse, she just runs.

* * *

–

* * *

It's cold out, even for a Canadian as Robin likes to joke. She's starting to shiver with cold in her thin sweater, but she can't go home. They'll be waiting in the apartment for her, with those oh so concerned looks on their faces. She can't go to Barney's, that would be worse and God knows she can't go back to the bar. They'll be waiting.

_Someone's always waiting in the dark where the pain doesn't stop and the words are quiet and the smell of rum permeates everything so strongly that she smells it still hours later even after several showers..._

The nausea had caught up with her about a block away from the bar and she'd ducked into an alleyway, giving into the feeling and been sick.

_She can't shake the feelings of hands on her and no matter how much light comes from the street lamps it was still dark and the scent of rum and fake fruit its overwhelming, even though it's just in her mind she can feel everything as if it's happening._

No!

Robin steels herself to hide from the memories; why won't they go away?

Her phone is buzzing in her pocket, no longer singing, just vibrating. It didn't stop, it wouldn't stop. Why won't they leave her alone?

_Why didn't he leave her alone?_

She's been walking for at least an hour and she can't really feel her feet any more. These boots were made to look cute, not to walk across half of New York. At least she stopped running after the 5th block.

_Can't ever run fast enough, can't run at all, no matter what he'll be there and it's all your fault._

She can't run fast enough to escape the memories, the air isn't cold enough to distract her and for once she doesn't have alcohol nearby as an easy quick fix.

At least Scotch didn't have any bad memories not like rum did.

Robin finally gives in and shakily sits down on a stoop, hoping no one in the building would look out and wonder why a crying woman was just sitting there this late. Hell, it was New York, no one would notice.

_No one ever notices._

The phone finally stops vibrating and she can't resist pulling it out, just to look.

Thirty-five missed calls. This has to be a new record for most calls in an hour. Four voice messages.

She can't go home, she can't tell them. They'll want to know and they'll push and prod and won't let it go, they never do.

_They never leave you alone. It's your fault, you don't say no..._

Choking back sobs and fighting against memories Robin selects the newest voice message and holds the phone cautiously to her ear.

"**Robin, where are you? It's Lily!" **Lily's voice is anxious and Robin feels guilty. "**We're worried about you, honey. What happened?"**

"_What happened to you? You said you'd come over this morning."_

"**Please, come home or at least call me back."**

"_It's just typical teenage whining; send her home and I'll sort her out."_

"**Marshall isn't mad at all, sweetie." **

"_Where on earth did you get that bruise?"_

"**Just come home and we can talk about it." **Lily's voice is still horribly anxious and she almost sounds guilty for some reason.

"_I don't care what you want, you're coming home now!"_

"**We love you, Robin." **Lily's voice nearly cracks with emotion. "**Please, no matter what's wrong, it'll be okay."**

"_Goodnight, RJ, I love you."_ _whispered words, thick with rum and a kiss on her forehead before she's alone in her room again in the dark..._

Robin is nearly ill again and shoves the phone hastily back into her pocket as she tries to breath and not pass out as she's crushed by the stench of rum and fake fruit, by the feeling of hands all over her, hot breath against her face and neck, pain that nearly makes her cry and the inability to speak; _she never said no._

She nearly leaps off the steps and starts moving again. This time she's running, not walking.

She can't go back, she can't tell them.

They'll never look at her the same again and it's all her fault.

_She never said no._

Fighting back shame, guilt and despair she keeps moving.

She can't go home.


End file.
